


Truth or Dare

by thegraeyone



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Feelings, Idiots in Love, Other, non-binary duke devlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22944523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegraeyone/pseuds/thegraeyone
Summary: So maybe both Duke and Joey have enough problems that make starting a new relationship tricky. There's some specters hanging over their shoulders, some skeletons in their closets, and they both play their cards close to their chest. But, at the end of the day, one of them is going to set the challenge, and the other will rise to it.Or, Joey and Duke's relationship is a game of truth or dare, and they both refuse to pick "truth".
Relationships: Jounouchi Katsuya | Joey Wheeler/Otogi Ryuuji | Duke Devlin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4





	Truth or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Today is Duke's birthday! 🎉🎲🎈🎂🎈🎲🎉 I started this a hundred years ago and am finally posting it to celebrate the cool birthday kid.

1.

Duke’s fingers are warm as they touch Joey’s face. He expects them to be cool, but instead they leave little circles on his skin, like the beginnings of a blush. They pause to lift his chin and admire him. Joey’s eyes are closed, because Duke is drawing on dark eyeliner and smoothing some kind of cream beneath his tired eyes. It’s not the first time he’s let someone play makeover on him, not when he’s friends with Yugi and Mai and Tea too, though she buys the expensive stuff and doesn’t like to share. What led him here, on a Saturday afternoon, with the sun lazing into evening outside the windows of Duke’s room, he’s not sure. One too many jokes, or Duke’s consistent prodding at Joey’s macho exterior. It’s a fact of life, Joey’s realized. Duke’s going to set a challenge, and he’s going to rise to it.

Duke looks at him through their own thick makeup, green eyes catching his gaze every time they tilt him left or right. They sigh when they make a mistake and lick the pad of their thumb to smooth across Joey’s skin. The two of them are sitting on Duke’s bed in an apartment that’s less fancy than he’d expected. Duke, court jester to the twin royalties of frivolity and excess, lives a pretty clean and put together lifestyle on the inside. Their stuff is organized into bins, closet color coordinated, and their desk where they work on their latest game kept in careful order. They both are cross-legged on a comforter that has a dark fruity scent, like a pomegranate or blackberry, and he’s pretending it’s not distracting to smell it coming of their thick black curls. Neither of them has said anything for a solid five minutes. It’s not like they’re afraid--neither of them would ever admit to that--but maybe they know what’ll happen if they do.

Duke sits back on their knees and lifts up the hand mirror they’d laid out beside their kit of makeup and face paints. They grin behind the mirror as Joey takes it, and he wonders briefly what their morning ritual is as they apply the dark liner and pale foundation. He’s never seen them without it.

The makeup isn’t bad. He really expected them to lay it on thick. But the eyeliner is clean, following the line of his lash before curving out. Their own asymmetrical look is copied, but instead of drawing down his cheek, they’ve made it heavier on the bottom, and it curves up. It creates a double line, and they gave him a neutral colored eyeshadow and a clean brush of mascara. Joey lifts his hand to touch it, and Duke hisses.

“You’ll smudge it,” they say.

“I’m not gonna smudge it,” Joey says. “I thought you’d go crazier.”

Duke looks affronted that he’d suggest it. “I said I’d make you look good, Joey. You should trust me.”

“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you,” he says instinctually. It’s not exactly true, though he keeps some wariness around Duke, who likes to play games in more ways than one. Joey sets the mirror down, and for a moment it catches both of them in the reflection. “It looks good.”

“Yeah?” Duke pinches their chin in their hand and looks at him, like studying a work of art. “You know what would really sell it is some piercings--”

They reach up to squeeze his ears, and Joey snags their wrist before they can. He pulls, they tumble forward, and somewhere in the fall they manage to kick the makeup kit, and it scatters to the ground. Duke’s head turns so Joey takes in a mouthful of hair as he falls back on the bed. He knows by the way Duke shifted their weight into that this is a planned move, which is why he’s more annoyed when Duke attempts to lift themself up and see the damage they’ve wrought. Joey does his best to keep them tangled up in him.

“You knocked over my whole thing!” Duke shouts and wriggles against him.

“You did that,” Joey insists and runs his fingers into their hair. There’s so dang much of it. His knuckles catch on a curl, turning it into more of a yank than a gentle caress.

They look down at him. Their elbows are perched on his chest, which isn’t entirely uncomfortable, their thin body stretched out on top of him. They don’t move another inch, and Joey knows they’re doing it on purpose. Duke is patient, content to wait until their prey come to them. Joey’s never had that sort of restraint. He lifts his head up, and they’re kissing. Duke’s lips are warm too, and he can feel their smile against his. It’s enough to spur him forward, and he gives them a more enthusiastic kiss, wrapping his arms around them and rolling them onto their back. Duke laughs, raising their hands up to his face.

“Don’t smudge it,” Joey warns.

Duke is still laughing as they bring his face down to kiss him again.

2.

Duke is setting up the game when Tristan goes to answer the door. They hear the call of two old friends--”J-Dog!” and “T-Bone!”--before Joey appears around the corner with a pizza in hand. He drops it on the table in front of Duke and grins down at them.

“Hey,” he says.

Duke rolls their eyes and sets to work fixing the game pieces he’s scattered everywhere. They’re used to Joey and Tristan around each other, calling each other names, trading playful blows. Duke teases them about being dumb boys. The machismo of it all. It’s easy to rile them up, and they used to make a game out of it. It’s hard not to fall on old habits around Joey and Tristan.

“I don’t get a cute nickname?” they asked.

“Like what?” Joey collapses on the couch. He’s wearing the same jean jacket he always does, the whole trying hard to not try too hard ensemble. Duke tries to guess how long he spent on his hair. They’re all too aware of his brown eyed gaze on them and the way his grin curves up, like a cartoon shark.

“Aw,” Tristan calls as he comes into the room. “You two moving up to pet names?”

Duke shouldn’t be surprised that Tristan knows, even when, since their initial makeout session, they hadn’t done much more than text. Joey rolls his eyes big and dramatic and looks to Duke with a smile that asks them to get in on the joke. Instead, they push the pizza out of the way as they unfold the game board.

“I think it’s sweet,” Tristan continues, plopping down next to Joey and pushing his lips out in a kissy face. “Sweetie, honey bear.”

Joey pushes his palm against his face and shoves him back. Tristan laughs and keeps going: “Angel face! Baby doll!”

“Try to pick one you two don’t already use for each other,” Duke deadpans as they stand. They’re used to the display from the two of them, the constant buddy-buddiness that speaks to years of friendship. They head into the kitchen instead of reacting.

“That knocks most of ‘em out of the running,” Joey says. His voice carries after Duke in their search for plates. “What about D-Man?”

“Not a man!” Duke calls back.

He stumbles over a fix. “D-Money.”

Tristan snorts in response. “Dukester. Dukezilla!”

“Devil D!” Joey shouts and Duke rolls their eyes as they grab the roll of paper towels. “Little D!”

That sends Tristan over the edge. He’s practically on the floor when Duke comes back in, tears running down his face. He chokes out, “Dukie-kins!”

Duke bops Joey on the head with the paper towels before joining them on the couch. They take the space between Joey and the end, a little gap they can squeeze into, provided Joey doesn’t mind them crossing their leg over his. He doesn’t. His brown eyes light up, his laugh settling in his throat.

“If you call me Dukie-kins,” they warn with the paper towels still in hand, “you’re gonna regret it.”

Joey gives them that same grin, the sort of look he gets when he’s come across a challenge. Duke’s very fond of that look.

“Whatever you want, Duke Nukem,” he says and takes the plates from them, handing one to Tristan as he manages to get upright.

As the pizza’s opened, Duke considers it. They say, “That one, I like.”

Joey only laughs. After an evening of board games and greasy food, Duke forgets about it entirely and assumes Joey has too, but the next time the whole gang get together, it’s Duke that opens the door. They’re greeted with his smile and a cheerful, “Hey, Duke Nukem.”

It’s a nickname no one else really picks up, but Duke doesn’t mind. Joey always looks at them warmly when he says it, ribbing them only a little, but instead it’s like a joke that only the two of them share. And as far as pet names go, they could ask for worse.

3.

Joey rolls his eyes as Duke falls into one of the benches in the atrium at the Domino City Mall and waves Tea to go ahead without them. While she takes her buyer’s remorse to the returns counter of some girly boutique, Joey nudges Duke’s knee.

“I told you not to wear those boots,” Joey said, tapping the heel of them with his toe.

Duke glares up at him through thick strokes of black eyeliner. “I’ve walked around the mall before, Joey.”

“Not with me and Tea,” he says. It’s a full day expedition, where they walk into every store, try every product, ending with their favorite boba place at the food court. Joey thought it fell neatly under Duke’s areas of interest, except they’re wussing out before they even covered half the place.

Their dedication to fashion is why Joey thought they might enjoy coming along, and they were enthusiastic at first. They whipped out three shiny looking credit cards and declared the excursion on them, which itches at Joey’s skin in a way he can’t describe. Their little group spent the day in the dressing room of every store, with Duke throwing outfit after outfit Joey’s way. The shopping bags pile up at Duke’s feet, because they don’t ask they just buy out a store telling Joey they found him the perfect look. It’s a gift, so he’s feeling ungrateful. Joey’s a little relieved that the day seems to be winding down.

“Wanna get a snack?” Joey asks.

“You’ll have to carry me.” Duke’s arms drop to their side dramatically, their head falling over the back of the bench. “I can’t go on.”

“You big baby.” He yanks on their arm. “There’s a pretzel place like five feet away.”

“Just let me lay where I fall--hey! Hey!”

Joey hoists them up by their torso, and they shout in surprise, kicking as their legs go off the ground. He starts laughing. They’re so _light_. He knew, in the back of his mind, they’re short with gangly little limbs, but Joey is used to wrestling with Tristan and knocking dudes bigger than him off their feet. He lifts Duke up with no problem at all, and he keeps one arm stable on their back as he scoops up their legs. Duke finds the whole thing less amusing.

“I swear, Wheeler!” they shout, scrambling with their arms against him. “I’ll end you! I’ll empty your bank account! I’ll--ah!”

Their squirming nearly slips them from his grip. They grab onto his shoulders, back arching as they push off him, fingers digging through his shirt. Joey should do what they ask, but he’s finding it way too funny that Duke’s cool and aloof exterior is totally broken. Even when they’re being goofy, they keep it all collected, and the joke’s always on other people. Now they’re spitting and hissing like an angry cat. There’s nothing cool or aloof about it.

“You wanted me to carry you,” Joey says and gives them a playful toss. “God, you’re so little.”

“I’m not little! Joey!”

He would let them down if they stop fighting him, but now he’s off-balance, and Duke’s heeled boot hits his chest. The whole mall is probably watching, and that’s a hundred witnesses if Duke’s skull hits the linoleum floor. Joey tries to right the situation by flipping them up so they’re now tossed over his shoulder, like he’s some caveman barbarian taking his mate home. Duke finds this even less dignified.

“Will you stop kicking?” Joey says. “You’re gonna fall.”

“And who’s fault is that!” they shout.

“Yours!”

Duke lets out a long beleaguered breath, and their limbs go limp all at once. Now he thinks they’re trying to drag him down with gravity, but before he can get them on their feet, Tea clears her throat behind them, her exchange in a bag in hand.

“I can come back,” she says, “if you two are being weird.”

Joey grins at her and pulls Duke off his shoulders. They rock slightly where he places them, hands still up, hair in a messy pile on top of their head. Joey takes a second to admire the look. Duke’s usually coordinated outfit is askew, and the corner of their eyeliner has smeared. He resists the urge to mess it up more.

“Is it always gonna be like this with you two?” Tea asks, her arms crossed impatiently.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Joey says innocently.

Duke has set about fixing their hair, pulling the thick curls from each other. They tug their top back into place. Tea keeps walking.

“You okay?” Joey asks, reaching up to move a stray lock from their forehead. His fingers curl when they jerk back, running their own hands over their face.

“I should know what happens when I tell you to do something,” they say and give him a look. “You always do it.”

He touches up their collar instead. That, they allow. “I’ll buy you a pretzel to make up for it.”

Their green eyes are focused on him, contemplating, and they flick their fingers beneath his chin. He thinks about kissing them, leans down to do it, and stops when he hears Tea shout, “Hurry up, lovebirds!”

Joey stutters out a laugh and looks at Duke, who’s not laughing. Their expression is unreadable, which he doesn’t like, because it means he can’t get a read on it. Then their lip curls up in a smile, and they nod their head towards the food court.

“Come on,” they say. “You owe me a pretzel.”

4.

It’s the first time Duke’s in Joey’s room, and they didn’t really know what they expected. It’s small but cozy, blankets kicked off the bed and clothes folded but left in little piles that get messier the further they are from laundry day. Comic books are stacked by the bedside, Duel Monsters cards are haphazardly arranged on a tiny desk, and a stack of old school burned CDs are scrawled with his handwriting. Joey hasn’t made an effort to clean before they showed up because he hadn’t expected them over, and Duke’s delighted to get a glimpse of it, unfiltered and exactly as he always keeps things. Joey digs in the closet for what he promised he’d bring Yugi while Duke takes their time looking around. They pick things up and put them back down like an archeologist who isn’t sure if they found rubble or treasure.

“Got it!” Joey announces as he holds up a box wrapped in a shopping bag. It’s at the same time Duke’s examining the bedside table and finds what most definitely counts as treasure.

“I didn’t know you wore _glasses_ ,” they croon as they hold up the clunky red pair. There’s no way they’re for fashion, not so square and in disrepair, the right arm of the pair clearly screwed back together several times. They spin around in time to catch Joey’s expression drop.

“I don’t--” He makes a grab for them that’s almost too casual. Duke raises them easily out of his range. “They’re just for when I need to read stuff.”

They only grin and slide them on, doing their best to keep out of his grasp, a difficult task in such a small space. Their vision blurs enough that the features in Joey’s face turn into an impressionist’s painting. They squint through them, tossing their hair over their shoulder.

“How do I look?” they ask.

“Like a nerd,” he says and tries to pull them from their face. Duke takes an easy step back.

“They’re your glasses,” they tease. They should be nicer, but it’s so funny watching the way Joey gets flustered. Bright spots of red burn the curve of his cheekbones. His dark eyebrows make angry creases in his skin. Then he starts getting handsy.

“Give ‘em back,” he says firmly. His fingers curl in Duke’s shirt to keep them where they are. It only makes them wriggle away more. “You’re being really annoying, Duke.”

They’re laughing as they raise the glasses over their head, and he grabs onto their arms. They’re not really wrestling--Duke isn’t going to pretend they can hold their own where Wheeler is involved--but their legs tangle, and they’re falling back onto his bed. Duke’s head is saved from hitting the wall by a stray plush scapegoat, but they let out an _oof_ when Joey lands on top of them. He’s immediately lifting up to make sure Duke is okay, but they’re still laughing, and they slip the glasses onto Joey’s face, letting them rest on the bridge of his nose before holding his face in their hands to admire him. They’re still clunky old glasses, smudged from Duke’s fingers, and they take up half of Joey’s face, but properly worn they make him look… softer. Duke tilts their head and imagines him bent over his desk, messing with his cards, the square glasses pressed against his nose.

“You look like a dork,” Duke says.

“Thanks,” Joey says. He’s still frowning, but they’re not fighting now, not with Joey hovering over them, legs on either side of theirs, arms caging their torso. Duke is satisfied to remain exactly where they are.

“How long have you worn glasses?” they ask.

Joey doesn’t remove them. His eyes are tracing the lines of Duke’s face, and they wonder if this is the first time he’s getting a good look at them, up close.

“I got ‘em in middle school,” he says, distantly. “But I broke ‘em every week getting into fights.”

They draw their arms over his shoulders. “Is that why I never see you in them?”

“They’re too expensive to replace,” he says, and his voice is tinged with memories.

Duke doesn’t know everything, but they’ve picked up enough. It’s hard not too when they’ve gotten the same spoonfuls of bad parenting. They consider, for a moment, broaching some sensitive subjects, digging into the cracks of Joey’s rough exterior, but instead, they guide him closer, scratching their fingers into his brush of yellow hair as they admire him admiring them. It’s easier to do than dip into the well of their own battered pasts. Safer, even, though for which one of them Duke’s not really sure.

“You know,” they say, tracing their fingers along the worn fabric of his shirt. “This isn’t what I imagined the first time you showed me your bedroom.”

Joey blinks, and he reaches up to remove the glasses. They hold his wrist instead.

“We’re gonna be late meeting Yugi,” he says.

“I think so,” Duke says with a nod.

They are, and without any decent excuse. Yugi’s kind about it anyway, he always is. Duke finds themself distracted throughout the night, occasionally looking up at Joey and looking for the pink imprints of the glasses on the bridge of Joey’s nose, wondering when they’ll get to see him like that again.

5.

Joey doesn’t know exactly what is making him antsy right now. The worn plush chair he’s in is more aesthetic than practical, and he’s hidden away in a small room in the back of a tattoo parlor. There’s a continuous buzz of needles going and the distant sound of someone’s music, but it’s actually quiet here. A table of long needles and different piercings sits across from him, and he glances at them occasionally, but probably what’s getting under his skin is how Duke’s holding his hand, their fingers making soothing strokes along his forearm. They haven’t even gotten started yet. The guy walked away for a minute when the phone started ringing, and it’s not even a big deal. Three punches in his left ear. He’s taken worse his than that. He’s not nervous. Duke’s acting like he’s nervous.

“I’m not nervous,” he says.

Duke just smiles in that way he hates, like they’re laughing at their own joke. They bring his hand up so his knuckles rest against their cheek, their green eyes way too focused on him.

“Since you’re not,” they say, “we should get tattoos. How’d you feel about a pinup of Panther Warrior on your arm? Or Red Eyes as a back piece? I know, you get Graceful Dice, and I get Skull Dice, so we’re matching.”

“Pass,” he says and leans back. “Why’d I let you talk me into this?”

“Don’t be a baby.” They grin at him. “You’re gonna love it.”

Duke can make any idea sound appealing. They probably could talk him into matching tattoos if they want to. Their fingers are still entwined, their warm palm enclosed over his, and there’s a feather touch of hair that’s light up his nerve endings. Their head tilts so the loose curls of their bang fall away from their eyes. They’re thinking.

“This is kind of a weird first date,” they say.

Joey’s brow furrows. “We’ve been on dates.”

They scoff. “Hanging out with everyone doesn’t count as a date, Joey. When have we been alone since we started doing this?”

Joey opens his mouth, but the truth is he can’t think of a time. He stares at their hands, fingers still clasped together. Now he is nervous.

“Are we dating?” they ask. “‘Cause it feels like we’re fooling around.”

“You’re saying we should get the matching tattoos,” Joey’s mouth says before his brain can tell him to shut up.

Duke’s fingers unfurl from his. The teasing smile fades. “It’s not really a joke.”

The warmth of their touch still leaves an imprint that’s fading fast. Joey almost grabs instinctually to hold on, but instead he sits exactly where he is. Duke lets out a little huff of air as they settle back. It’s the first time their smile’s really dropped, and they look almost embarrassed about it. Joey’s used to their flirting and the way they do it with everyone. It’s part of their charm. They’re always on, a hundred percent of the time. It feels like when he saw them through his glasses for the first time. Like they’re wiping away the makeup and peeking out from behind a mask

Joey hasn’t really dated anyone before, and he assumed, because Duke is the same, that this is something casual, undefined, easy. He hasn’t considered that they might want the whole shebang: flowers, cute dates, couples selfies to clog their friends’ feed with. It scares him a little bit. Not just the lovey dovey stuff. They’ve both got their prickled edges, and while Joey can admit he puts up a wall, there’s something about Duke that’s serrated. But they’re asking him to get close. To brave the knife’s edge. To trust them.

And the last thing Joey Wheeler’s ever done is back down from a challenge.

“Duke,” he says and holds out his arms to behold their situation. “I don’t get holes punched in my face for just anyone. I’ll take you on dates. We’ll get dolled up and go to the fanciest restaurant they got. I’ll buy tickets to stupid Kaibaland if you want. And after this, we’re going to Burger World, and maybe a movie, and then I’ll win you something at the arcade. All you gotta do is say.”

Duke’s smile edges back on their lips. “Are you sure you’re not just saying that so I’ll hold your hand?”

He stretches his palm to them. “Maybe. But I promise to keep holding your hand after.”

Their fingers close over his again, and they leave forward to plant a kiss on his cheek. They add, with a bat of their eyelashes, “You’re such a baby.”

He grins and gives them a squeeze. The guy comes back, and it’s one two punch before he’s out of the chair. Joey keeps his promise though, and even by the counter as the guy explains how to care for the piercings, even as they climb into Duke’s car, even as they argue over what movie they’re gonna see, they’re still holding tightly onto each other. It never stops feeling good. When Duke flashes their big grin at him, his heart thuds in his chest, because he knows, with an absolute certainty he’s never felt before, that Duke is worth holding onto.


End file.
